In This Moment
by Janne Doe
Summary: A herd of walkers shatter the serenity of the farm they called Haven, bringing unexpected change to the group. Sequel to "The Doe and the Corn."
1. Promises

**Several weeks ago, I had a brainchild for a sequel to "The Doe and the Corn." This is my semi-sadistic one-shot that took on a life of its own and turned itself into a multi-chapter fluff fic. I know a few folks wanted more to my one shot, so I hope this meets their expectations!**

**Someday, when I win the lottery, I will buy the rights to The Walking Dead. Until then, I don't own them.**

**Recommended Song: "This I Promise You" by N'Sync**

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"DARYL!"

Carol's screams echoed off the mountainsides as the last walker fell to the earth, destroying the picturesque winter scene of the farm they once called Haven. It had been years since they had seen a herd this size, not since they left the prison in what felt like another lifetime. Glenn saw them first on a trip into town for more diapers. Dozens of them came from every direction with more pouring in from the road that led to the outskirts of town. He returned to the farm in record time, well ahead of the horrors that followed.

Rick was not as concerned as his Korean counterpart. "The wall is fortified," he assured them. "We built it to last and it will. We've maintained it so that it'll hold when the day came we'd need it. We have the hills on either side of us. There hasn't been a walker yet that could climb them. We'll be safe here. We've got more than enough food and water to wait this out. Everything will be okay if we stay calm."

Carol had looked away from him as an all too familiar voice of doubt whispered in her ear. _That's what you said at the prison… at the farm… about Sophia._

Her eyes ventured towards her husband, who sat on the hearth of the fireplace, sharpening his hunting knife slowly. His eyes never left Rick, watching as their leader paced the length or the room. "Ain't no fence gonna keep back all of 'em," he said.

Rick nodded. "I'm sure we can handle the few that do get through."

"What what about our women and children?" Hershel inquired.

"Our women are more than capable of taking care of themselves. We've seen to that."

Daryl jerked his head in the direction of the staircase. "''Bout that one that jus' popped one out?"

"Yeah," Glenn spoke up. "Maggie nearly bled to death. You can't expect her to fight, too."

"'Course not," Rick spat. "We'll do everything we can to keep her and Samuel safe. In the meantime, we need to fortify the house. Board the windows, block the doors, and figure out the best vantage points in case we need to start shooting. Hopefully, they won't even realize we're here."

Carol couldn't bite back her questions. "And what if they do? What do we do if they attack us directly? If they don't pass us by?"

Rick's mouth was set in a grim line. "We'll fight best we can. Escape up the hillside and head north towards the lake. We won't be able to take the vehicles, not with the number Glenn saw out there. We'd be overrun in minutes."

Carol moved from her spot near the dining room door to sit beside Daryl. "We still have our emergency bags packed and ready," she reminded them. "I don't know if they'll last us until the lake, though."

"But what about Maggie and Sam?" Glenn interrupted. "They can't travel that far, especially not on foot. Not in this weather."

A strained silence fell over the group as all eyes looked everywhere but in Glenn's direction. Waiting was a gamble no one wanted to take, but leaving was becoming an even less desirable option. After a pregnant pause, Hershel broke the silence. "I won't leave my family behind to perish," he said, placing a hand on Glenn's shoulder. "They're all I have left in this world."

Carol turned to face Daryl. His brows creased. _We should go while we still can._

She glanced at Glenn before turning her pleading eyes back to her husband. _We can't leave them here to die._

He looked back down at the knife in his hands. _I'm trying to keep you safe._

Carol's hand rested lightly on his elbow, bringing the hunter's eyes back towards her own. _I know you are... but the others need your help more than I do._

Daryl sighed as he rose to his feet. "I ain't lettin' a buncha squatters run me outta what's mine," he declared as he sheathed his knife. He turned to face Glenn. "Shoveled too much shit outta that attic t'let some Asian punk move his whole family in there... turn the whole damn place into Chinatown or somethin'."

Glenn gave him a crooked smile of thanks. "Yeah... you let one in and they start multiplyin'."

One side of Daryl's lip lifted slightly as he walked into the kitchen. Carol followed close behind. "Thank you," she said softly.

Daryl turned to face her. "If shit gets bad, you run," he instructed her. "Keep your shit with you. Don't try an' be no hero. Jus' run."

Carol smiled sadly at him. "I'll try to resist the urge," she promised, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Daryl pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. Carol nuzzled the soft flannel of his shirt. It was an ideal moment any other day, but impending chaos had drained her spirits. _Any other day..._

A gurgle from her stomach announced that it received no favors from the stress, either. Daryl stepped back and looked at her critically. "The hell was that?"

"My stomach's upset is all... just worried."

He frowned. "Y'look green," he bluntly observed.

"I'm fine. Really, I'll feel better once I've got somethin' to do."

Daryl studied her for a long moment before relenting. "Get those bags ready t'go. Check the food, clothes, whatever."

"And make one for Samuel."

Carol watched as Daryl's lips twitched, clearly struggling to bite back a response she could already hear. She knew as well as he did that if they were overrun, the odds of Maggie and the baby surviving were slim to none. Still, if there was a chance, she wanted to give them every edge she could.

Finally, Daryl kissed the top of her head. "M'gonna see how many boards we can get over them windows. Ain't got much time."

Half an hour later, the farmhouse was buzzing with activity. Rick, Daryl, and Glenn began hammering boards to the windows and doors while Hershel and Andrea kept watch from the attic window. Carol brought the emergency bags into Maggie's room so they could sort them without violating the new mother's strict orders of bed rest."

"Which one you workin' on?"

Carol didn't look up. "Glenn's... Trade me that can of corned beef. Rick doesn't eat it, but Glenn does."

Maggie passed the can, taking a jar of soup in exchange. "I don't see why it matters. If we're all runnin' for our lives, who cares what they like to eat?"

Carol looked up as a dark expression crossed Maggie's face. "In the end, it doesn't matter... but it's the little things that can make the bad times a bit better." She paused, then added, "Imagine runnin' for your life with nothin' but cans of tuna in your pack."

As expected, Maggie made a face at the thought. "Ugh, that's true... How do you remember all this stuff? I've known Glenn almost as long as you have, but I can never remember everything he likes."

Carol shrugged as a smile twitched at the corners of her lips. "You'll learn," she said, gesturing towards the Moses basket beside her. "Before you know it, you'll know more about Sam than you know about yourself."

"If I live that long," Maggie sighed as she leaned over to stroke Samuel's cheek.

Carol turned and watched as Maggie gazed lovingly at her son. He was nearly a week old now, already looking around at the world with his dark, somber eyes that reminded her greatly of Glenn. He was a quiet baby who rarely cried, a blessing to his recovering mother and nervous father. Carol smiled as she reached to pat his stomach. "You're gonna be his mama for a long time, Maggie. You're gonna watch him grow up and meet your own grandkids someday."

Maggie tore her gaze from Samuel. "Carol... if somethin' happens to us..."

"Oh, honey!" Carol jumped up from her spot on the floor and pulled her friend into a motherly hug. "You can't think like that!"

Tears rolled down Maggie's cheeks. "I have to," she said as her voice began to crack. "I can't keep him safe if anything was to happen. And Glenn... he'd get his stupid self killed trying to save us. But you..."

Carol hugged her even tighter. "Maggie..."

The younger girl began to sob. "But you have Daryl lookin' out for you. You'll both make it out of this, make it to the lake... you'll both be okay."

"Hush now... Glenn said he only saw fifty or so. Plus the snow has slowed them down, so we've got plenty of time to get ready. We're better prepared now. It won't be like the farm again."

Maggie pulled away. "Promise me, Carol," she pleaded. "If anything happens to me and Glenn... Promise me you'll take Sam with you."

For several moments, Carol was unable to respond. Finally, she pulled Maggie back into her arms, tears forming in her own eyes. "I promise."

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**Yay, it's a baby! ^_^ New chapter coming soon!**


	2. Hush, Hush

**Okay, I couldn't resist posting the next chapter! Just… try not to kill me, okay?**

**Trigger Warning: Allusion to suicide**

**Recommended Song: "Don't Speak" by No Doubt**

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With one final tug, Daryl removed the hatchet from the walker's head before falling to the ground.

"DARYL!" Carol ran across the field, stumbling over fallen walkers as her feet slid in the newly fallen snow. "God, no! No, oh god, no!"

She fell to her knees beside him, her eyes taking in the damage. Blood covered him like a second skin, his own mixing with that of the walkers he had taken down to save them. There was a bite to the left thigh, another on the right arm, but he was still breathing. His breaths came hard and fast, but he was still alive.

"Daryl?!"

His eyes fluttered open.

"It's okay, darlin'. We're gonna take care of you, fix you right up." Her eyes darted around the field, looking for help. "RICK! Bring Hershel! He's hurt!"

The sheriff was already a step ahead, running across the field with Hershel and Glenn at his heels. "Move him into the barn," Hershel ordered. "Get him out of this snow."

"Ain't gonna do no good," Daryl muttered.

Carol turned to face her husband. "You hush that talk," she said, stroking his face as she fought back her tears. "It's not so bad."

Daryl's eyes began to droop. "S'worse."

Rick and Glenn swooped in from behind, grabbing their fallen comrade under the arms. "S'alright, brother," Rick assured him. "We gotcha."

Together, the men picked Daryl up and began walking swiftly to the barn, leaving Carol kneeling in the bloody snow. For a moment, she was helpless, unsure what to do to help. Her fingers found Daryl's fallen crossbow. Without thinking, she picked it up and followed the men into the barn. Daryl would want to know it was safe.

She found the men in the alley of the barn, debating where to lay Daryl. "Put him in the drive bay," Hershel decided. "There's more room to work there. Glenn, I need you and Rick to bring me all the light you can. Open that window for now, but I'll need lanterns-"

"Ain't gonna do no good," Daryl repeated. "Wastin' time."

"I know we ain't done a double amputation yet," Rick began as they laid Daryl down in the floor, "but I know Hershel-"

Daryl didn't speak, instead using his left arm to reach down and lift the side of his shirt. "Waste'a time, bro."

Carol watched the color drained from Rick's face as his jaw went slack. He looked from Hershel to Glenn. Their horrified faces mirrored his own. Rick turned towards Hershel, his mouth moving soundlessly. Hershel shook his head. Carol took a hesitant step closer and peered between their shoulders.

A third bite.

A gasp from behind the men caught their attention. Carol leaned against the support beam with a hand pressed against her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs that shook her body. Daryl lifted his head. "Aw, hell..."

Carol took a shaky step forward, but her legs had turned against her. Rick and Glen dove forward to catch her. "Daryl... Oh, god, Daryl!"

The men helped her kneel beside her husband as she reached for him wildly. Her tears flowed openly as repressed sobs shook her body. Daryl reached for her with his one good arm, pulling her to him. She laid her face against his chest and held him close, ignoring the blood that stained her face.

Rick took Glenn by the elbow, leading him away from the scene as Hershel followed. Carol looked up at the sudden movement. "Wait! Where are you going?! You have to help him!"

Rick paused, looking over his shoulder at her. His brow creased as he tried to find something, anything to say. There were no words, only the last remaining minutes of a life cut terribly short. He closed his mouth as he turned to walk away in silence.

"You can't leave him like this! Come back!"

A hand rested on Carol's arm. "Hey." Carol's eyes darted back to Daryl, who was regarding her with distant affection. "Y'can't fix this... not this time."

She pulled her arm away from him. "The hell I can't," she murmured, pulling his poncho over her head. She pulled Daryl's hunting knife from the sheath on his leg and began cutting the poncho into strips.

"That ain't gonna work and you know it."

Carol didn't respond as she began tying one of the strips as a tourniquet around his thigh. Another larger one went over the wound. "The artery's been nicked," she said flatly. "If I had something to clamp it with..."

Daryl didn't reply, but gazed distantly at a place over her shoulder. A gasp escaped her lips as she took his face into her hands. His skin was pale, clammy and cool to the touch. Her hand went to his neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. It was there, but only just, fast and faint beneath her fingers.

"Daryl?!"

His eyes came back into focus as his head turned to face her. He lifted his hand, reaching for her. She grasped his hand tightly as fresh tears filled her eyes. His fingers tightened slightly against her own. "Y'gotta knock this shit off," he murmured. "Get your ass back in the house where it's warm."

She shook her head. "No. My place is right here with you."

"Got more'n jus' me to think about." His eyes drifted down to her abdomen. "Ain't no good ever come of a half-froze peanut."

Her eyes widened. "How did you-"

"Li'l stuff. Stories you told Maggie. Hell, woman... known you the better part'a five years."

Carol couldn't contain a smile despite her tears. "You can't leave us… Who will teach him to hunt?"

Daryl's eyes began to close. "Girl," he muttered.

"What?"

"S'girl."

"Then teach her to hunt! I don't care what you do, just don't leave us!"

"Wan'n't no good for nobody," he continued, his voice becoming little more than a whisper. "Always trouble... leavin' y'like this... no good."

Carol took his head into her arms. "Hush, darlin'," she sniffled. "You're every bit as good as the others. You did right by us."

"Never said..."

His wife leaned closer to him. "Daryl, don't..."

"Never said..." His breath was slowing, becoming deeper as he fought for each breath.

"Don't speak, darlin'. Save your breath."

Daryl opened his eyes one last time. "...loved ya."

Carol hugged his head to her. "I love you, too," she choked.

He didn't reply as his gaze became fixed just beyond her arm. His breaths became uneven, slowing until they became staggering gasps for air. Then as suddenly as it all began, Daryl Dixon took his last breath.

xoxoxo

Time passed. Minutes, hours, days, weeks… It was all the same to Carol as she clung to Daryl's lifeless body. Each tear that fell on his face left trails in the grime on his cheeks. She found herself wiping at the spots, hoping for one last glimpse of the face she once knew.

"Carol?"

She looked up as Andrea entered the drive bay, tears glistening in her own eyes as she looked down at Daryl's lifeless body. She knelt beside Carol, wrapping her arms around her. The grieving widow buried her bloodstained face in the warm shoulder of the parka, but her arms never released Daryl. "He's dead," she cried. "Oh, God, he's dead!"

Andrea held her close as her own tears began to fall. "I couldn't believe it," she whispered. "Not even coming from Rick, I just couldn't believe it. I never thought… never dreamed… He was gonna outlive us all."

Carol nodded as she turned to face her husband. "He died to save me… but I couldn't save him."

"None of us could. We tried like hell, but he got swarmed…" A sob shook the younger woman's body. "He was the best friend I ever had."

A long silence filled the barn as the women shared their grief. Carol's hand wrapped around Daryl's, stroking his ringless finger. True to his word, he was not one to stand on ceremony or impractical jewelry, but he managed to find hers a week after their private ceremony. She remembered waking up one morning with its unfamiliar weight on her finger. He never mentioned it, and neither did she. Instead, she gave him a peck on the cheek at breakfast as they exchanged knowing smiles.

"Carol?" Andrea's voice broke the spell of her reverie. "Do you… Do you want one of us to do it? When the time comes?"

Carol wiped her eyes with one hand as she sat up. "I'll do it," she sniffled. "He's my husband."

Andrea nodded as she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulling out her Ladysmith. She sat the gun beside Carol. "If you need anything… anything at all…"

"Thank you," Carol whispered as the blonde rose to her feet. "Thank you all. For everything."

She watched as Andrea left the barn before turning her attention back to Daryl. His once tanned skin had gone gray, making him look like a stranger to her. His eyes were closed, but she was sure they had already turned from the beautiful shade of sky blue to the colorless eyes of the undead. It was a sight she could live a thousand lifetimes without seeing.

Without warning, there was movement. It was so faint, Carol would have missed it had she not been watching. She leaned forward slowly, watching as Daryl's chest rose and fell with a haggard breath. "Daryl?" she gasped.

Beside her, a single finger twitched.

Carol gasped as she backed away, dropping his head unceremoniously to the floor. She watched in horror as her husband's body began to take life once more, his breaths coming more steadily with each passing moment. His lips, once warm and affectionate against her own, began to part as a low growl escaped them.

She began to whimper softly as she backed away, her hand desperately searching the floor for Andrea's gun. "No, no, please, no," she whispered.

Her fingers grazed a familiar string. Daryl's crossbow laid forgotten by the support beam, still covered in a dusting of snow. Her fingers clasped the stock, dragging it across the floor and into her lap. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled back the cable, locking it into place. One bolt remained in the quiver, more than enough for what needed done.

With the bolt secured, Carol rose to her feet. By now, Daryl's body had started coming to life, his hands and feet twitching aimlessly as his growls became more audible. Any moment, his eyes would open, lifeless and cold, no different from the ones that littered the fields around the barn. They would never watch the world around them with rapt attention, never become ablaze with fury when he was angry… and never gaze at her with every ounce of love he could give.

Carefully, Carol raised the crossbow to her shoulder. She lined up the shot through the sight, but aiming seemed almost pointless. He was nearly point-blank at this range. Fresh tears began to roll down her face. "Forgive me," she whispered, then pulled the trigger.

Daryl's body went limp as the bolt protruded from his skull. His eyes never opened.

Carol knelt beside him once more. She took his hand back into her own. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry… You'd have done the same for me."

With her free hand, she reached beside her and picked up Andrea's Ladysmith. "I was never strong like you… could never be as strong as you. Please forgive me."

With one final breath, Carol raised the gun to her head.

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***ducks* Please don't kill me! There's still five more chapters to go! This was actually where my original idea ended, but thanks to Lexcade, my "alternate ending" turned into the rest of the story.**

**A special thanks to Lilmstoughstuff for inspiring the "he's my husband" moment.**


	3. My Everything

**I thought about putting off updating for about a week, just to be evil… but I couldn't do it. I'm a big softie, what can I say? ^_~ Enjoy!**

**If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Recommended Song: "Let's Go On (Cherie)" from Rhapsody**

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Carol bolted upright in bed, her eyes wide with terror. "Daryl?!"

Beside her, a tangle of limbs and quilts came to life. Swears punctuated the grunts as a head emerged. "Huh?" a voice mumbled. "S'matter? S'baby? Walkers?"

Carol threw her arms around her husband as tears rolled down her face. "You were dead!" she whimpered.

Daryl held her close, one hand behind her head and another wrapped protectively around her growing stomach. He rocked her in his arms as she cried against his neck. He didn't need to ask which nightmare it was. It was always the same gruesome dream of his death at the hands of a herd of walkers.

"Hey," he murmured, kissing her forehead lightly. "S'a'ight. I'm safe. You're safe. Ain't been no walkers come up this way in months."

Carol nodded as she pulled away. "I know," she sniffled. "It jus' seems so real every time..."

Daryl rubbed his hand against her stomach. "How's Peanut?"

A smile formed at the edges of Carol's lips. "She's okay. She was kickin' me really hard. S'why I woke up."

It was Daryl's turn to smirk. "Keep callin' it a girl... What are you gonna do when it turns out Peanut's a boy?"

"Because in my dreams, you tell me it's a girl."

An amused grunt accompanied his smirk. "Lil' girl… The hell we gonna do with a lil' girl?"

"Same thing we'd do with a lil' boy... teach her to survive."

Daryl stretched back against the pillows, pulling his wife with him. He drummed his fingers across her stomach, smiling when there was a kick in salutation. "Hey, Peanut… keep your mama in line. No more'a them dreams, a'ight?"

There was another kick before the baby stilled once more.

Carol giggled. "You can't call her Peanut forever."

Daryl kissed her head again. "Name 'im whatcha want, but he already answers to this one... doncha, Peanut?"

Another kick made Carol roll her eyes. "I'm not calling her that when she's born."

"What _are_ you gonna call it?"

Carol smiled, placing her hand on top of his. "I always wanted a little girl named Madeline. When I was pregnant with Sophia, I was already dreamin' of how someday she'd have a little sister… Sophia and Madeline."

"You ain't callin' my boy Madeline. Ain't gonna have none'a that."

Carol grinned. "Well, since you're so insistent… I suppose we could call him Jacob."

Daryl didn't reply, settling for rubbing her stomach until her breathing became deep and even. When he was sure she was asleep, he leaned up far enough to put his face close to her stomach. "Hey... stop blabbin' to your mama," he whispered. "S'more fun to give her shit 'bout you being a boy."

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***hides* I know, I know! I totally pulled a "Dallas," and for that I apologize. Like I said, my original idea ended in the last chapter, but I had to do something to make it up to my poor distraught beta. What really happened that day with the herd will be explained soon, but for now, I hope you enjoy the fluff. ^_^ The next chapter will be longer, I promise!**


	4. Baby Inside

**I think I'll do a duel-chapter post. Think you can handle the fluff?**

**Recommend Song: "Capri" by Colbie Caillat**

**If I owned TWD, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction about it… or would I? Seriously, though, I don't own it.**

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It was midsummer, July by Hershel's guess, and the middle of the cruelest heat wave in recent memory. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl had hauled water from the well most of the morning in an attempt to save the garden, but the noonday sun quickly sent them to the shelter of the shade trees.

Carol watched them with amusement from the window as the men settled beneath the trees. Daryl was pouring the last of the water in the pail over his head in an attempt to cool off. She couldn't hear Glenn's commentary, but she figured it wasn't very nice when a second bucket was used to silence him.

She opened the back door and slowly waddled onto the porch. It was almost time for the baby to be born. "Any day now," Hershel had said just three days ago. She had been having small contractions for days, leaving her in a constant state of discomfort and unrest. Sophia had been a difficult birth despite her premature arrival. This new little one was easily full-term, if not a little late.

Her one good hand absently stroked her stomach. She had been further along than she thought when she found out. She was sure her childbearing days were behind her as her last cycle ended nearly six months before she and Daryl were married. Her body, however, was still willing to give her one last chance at motherhood, albeit one last cruel chance... Giving birth at her age was hard enough before the loss of modern medicine.

"What d'ya think your doin'?"

Lost in her thoughts, Carol had missed seeing Daryl cross the field to chastise her. "Standin'," she smirked. "Or have I gotten so big you can't tell the difference?"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Get back inside."

"I will not!" she retorted. "It's suffocating in there. There's no air moving and I can't breathe for it."

She could see his mouth twitch, biting back a response of his own. Finally, he turned and pulled a rocking chair in her direction, muttering, "Hun'red degrees out here an' you wanna be in it..."

Carol sank into the chair gladly. "Thank you."

Daryl shook his head at her. "S'my boy you're carryin' in there," he reminded her with a gentle poke.

She chuckled as her deformed hand rested on his. "Okay, I give up! You win! It's a boy."

Daryl's smirk grew as he took her hand into his. "Damn right," he said, kissing her two remaining fingers.

Carol blushed as she pulled her hand back self-consciously. It had been six months since a walker had taken her other two fingers. Though the wound had long since healed, the sight of her deformity still embarrassed her.

"How's the garden?"

Daryl shrugged as he looked over his shoulder. "Pain in the ass. Damn lucky if we don't lose half of it."

"And the melons? How are they looking?" She had been craving watermelon for weeks, her mouth watering every time she caught sight of them.

Daryl winked at her. "Huge," he teased.

Carol shook her head, but her eyes danced with laughter. "And you say MY hormones are going crazy. Honestly-"

She paused when she saw Daryl's face. He was looking at the porch floor, his face an alarming combination of horror and confusion. Carol tried to follow his gaze. "What? What is it?"

Daryl didn't immediately answer as he half-squatted to look under her chair. "The hell is that?"

"What?"

She watched as his brows creased. "You leakin' or somethin'?"

Carol tried to peer beneath her char, but after several failed attempts, she settled for putting a hand between her legs. Her eyes widened. "Oh!"

Daryl's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" he repeated. "Whaddya mean 'oh?'"

Her blue eyes rose to meet his own. "Means Jacob is on his way."

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**I love writing silly banter between Daryl and Carol. This chapter was good fluffy fun. I know nothing really happened in this chapter (OMG WHAT DO YOU MEAN HER DEFORMED HAND?), so I'll post another chapter here in the next little bit. :-) Hope you're enjoying the fic so far!**


	5. Sacrifice

**This is the second-longest chapter in this fic (the first being Ch 2), but there's some action and a tiny dash of gore… sorta. Also, I wrote this before Chandler Riggs revealed Carl was supposed to be 13. I was working on the assumption that he was about 9 in Season 1, making him about 13-ish in this fic. Oops.**

**Recommended Song: "Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank**

**TWD has been commandeered/borrowed without permission.**

* * *

It was well past midnight and Daryl was still chopping wood by the light of the lantern. He'd been at it for hours, unable to sit inside the house, helpless as his wife held back screams of agony. She had Maggie there to hold her hand while Hershel and Andrea tended to her. She didn't need him there pacing about. What she did need was firewood to keep her warm this winter.

The muscles in his arms twitched with exhaustion. He dropped the axe and sat with his back to the wood pile. He could see the lights of the house, the generator putting in some overtime to provide light and hot water until it was all over. The end, however, seemed an eternity away, especially with pain medication and antibiotics now but a distant memory.

He remembered the night they used the last of both. The walkers had invaded their land six months ago with a herd of fifty or more. They were prepared thanks to Glenn's scouting, and things were going smoothly until that damn kid got it in his head that he had something to prove. A straggler had gotten through the fence, and Carl had slipped out the back door to take it out. Things might have gone smoothly if it hadn't been for the faulty silencer.

POW!

Every walker for miles heard it and headed right for them. Rick screamed for his son, bolting out the back door with Daryl at his heels. But Carl wasn't the only one who failed to listen. Carol had already made it across the yard, half-dragging the boy towards the safety of the barn, armed only with a Louisville Slugger and her good intentions.

They found her just inside the barn, shielding the boy from a danger that was no longer there. Her body trembled, but her eyes were wild as she gripped the bat in her right hand. Her left hand was covered in blood, the last two fingers reduced to stumps. Carl looked over her shoulder helplessly, unsure whether the real danger lurked inside or directly before him.

Rick started towards his son. "Oh, God, Carol..."

Carol's shrieks stopped him mid-stride as the bat went into motion. "Back!" she screamed. "Get away from him!"

Startled, he looked to Daryl for help. "She's in shock."

"No shit," Daryl snapped, his eyes unable to leave the sight of her mangled hand. Time was short if they hoped to save her.

"Talk to her," Rick instructed. "She'll probably respond to you better than anybody."

Daryl glanced at him uncertainly before lowering his crossbow to the ground. He took a careful step forward. "Carol?"

His wife didn't respond, keeping the bat raised. Behind her, Carl whimpered.

"Carol," Daryl inched closer to her, lowering himself to her level. "Y'hear me?"

The bat began to lower as the wild look in her eyes began to fade. Carol blinked once, then twice, as if waking from a dream. "Daryl?" she whispered.

Her husband gently extended a hand towards her. "S'okay... S'alright... You're safe now."

Tears began flowing down Carol's cheeks as she threw herself into his arms. "Oh, God, oh, God!" she sobbed as her remaining fingers clung to his shirt. "God forgive me! Forgive me!"

Daryl glanced up at Rick, who was holding Carl protectively to his chest. "S'alright," Daryl murmured. "Nothin' t'forgive. Both y'all's safe-"

Her cries cut him off as each sob shook her body. "The baby! The baby! God forgive me, I've killed the baby!"

Daryl shot Rick a bewildered look towards Rick, who looked equally shocked. "Baby?" Rick mouthed.

A shake of the head was all Daryl could manage before turning his attention back to Carol. "We gotta take care'a this. Gotta take it off 'fore it spreads.

Carol didn't respond or even appear to have heard him as she stared off to a place beyond Daryl's shoulder. Rick turned to his son. "Go get Hershel. Tell him to bring his bag, that we're gonna amputate."

Carl nodded once and ran in the direction of the house. Rick knelt beside Daryl. "Let's get her over to the tack room, use the work table in there. We might be able to save the rest of her hand if we're quick about it."

Together, they lifted Carol to her feet and led her to the work table. Daryl swept the table clear with a brush of his arm. "Ain't very sanitary," he observed.

"Better than the floor," Rick reminded him, pulling the hatchet from his belt. "Gonna try to take jus' this part of the hand. Hold her still."

Daryl stood behind her, holding her arms to her body as the injured hand laid spread against the table. His fingers dug into her flesh for the first time outside their bed. He placed his cheek alongside hers as he whispered, "Try not t'scream... don't wanna attract no more of 'em."

Carol's sobs quietened as she nodded. "'Kay."

He squeezed her to him. "Love you," he murmured, then turned his gaze back towards Rick, giving him a curt nod.

She kept her word. She didn't scream, and her thrashing was minimal. Daryl held her still while Rick used his shirt to help control the bleeding. By the time Hershel made it to the barn, she had already passed out.

They laid her in Rick and Andrea's bed on the first floor to recover. Daryl rarely left her side, keeping constant vigil until she awoke for the first time several hours later, groggy and disoriented from the pain medication.

"Where are we?" she mumbled sleepily.

Daryl took her right hand into his. "Still at the farm," he said. "We got that herd cleared out."

"Carl?"

"Lil' shit's fine. Gonna change that when he shows his ugly mug again."

Carol managed a weak smile. "What happened?"

"You don' remember?"

"No... I remember looking for Carl... then you were killin' walkers to come save me."

Daryl nodded. "You 'member gettin' bit?"

Carol frowned at him, then noticed her bandaged hand. "No, I don't... Did I lose my ring?"

A surprised laugh escaped Daryl's lips. "Dammit, woman, you jus' lost half'a your hand and you're askin' me about your damn ring?"

Even half sedated, Carol managed a look of indignation. "S'my weddin' ring!"

Her husband shook his head. "Jesus... I'll get you another one, a'ight?"

Carol nodded as her eyes began to close. "M'kay."

Daryl wasn't finished talking yet. "Hey," he said, poking her stomach gently. "When'd you plan on tellin' me 'bout that?"

An embarrassed smile appeared on her lips. "Didn' know 'til yesterday. S'gonna tell you in the kitchen, but the walkers..."

Daryl watched her carefully. "Thought it was end'a the line for that?"

Carol gave him an amused grunt. "Makes two of us... makes two... three... of us... Dixons."

She didn't open her eyes again for nearly a week. During the first night, infection had set in, causing her hand to swell as her temperature skyrocketed. Hershel was less than optimistic about her recovery. "It's fortunate we had ampicillin on hand, given her condition," he told Daryl after the third night, "but what we have might not be enough."

"Then we'll get more!" Daryl snapped.

The old man shook his head. "You don' understand, son... this is it. Between what we used to save Maggie and what we've used since we came here, our sources have been depleted. There's no more to be retrieved. Not locally."

Daryl jumped to his feet. "So what the hell we supposed t'do? Just let her lay here an' die?!"

Hershel shook his head. "She's in God's hands now. Even if we sent a group out looking for more, she'd just as likely die while you were gone than if you were right here beside her."

The hunter glared at the doctor for a long moment, fists curled tightly at his sides. "Guessin' we won' be needin' ya, then," he growled.

Hershel tilted his head. "I suppose not," he replied as he turned towards the door.

Daryl returned to his chair beside the bed. Carol was sleeping peacefully for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before the nightmares returned. She would thrash about beneath the quilts, screaming his name in such agony, it was as though he were dead. Sometimes he could comfort her, but other times she would be inconsolable.

Carefully, Daryl took her left hand into his and began unwinding the bandage. Her hand was hot to the touch, the skin turning an angry red color that extended to her wrist. The stitches looked cleaner than they had the day before, which Daryl understood to be a good sign. Hopefully in time, she would be able to use her hand again. Missing two fingers was better than losing an entire hand.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention from her hand. Andrea stood in the doorway with her hands behind her back. "Can I come in?"

Daryl jerked his head to one side, motioning her in as he began wrapping a clean bandage around Carol's hand. Andrea sat on the bed facing him. "How is she?"

"'Bout the same as yesterday. Doc's trying some souped-up Tylenol. Supposed t'help with the fever. Mostly for the pain."

Andrea frowned. "Does he think the fever might be-"

Daryl glared at her. "Ain't that kinda fever!"

She nodded quickly. "Just askin'! I was worried." A noncommental noise was as close to forgiveness as she was going to get. "Besides, I brought you something."

"Oh yeah?" Daryl's eyes didn't leave Carol's hand as he finished taping the bandage. "Not another shitty whodunit is it?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "No, this one's a bit more useful," she promised, pulling a heavy book from behind her back. "Actually, Maggie thought you might find it useful."

Daryl took the book into his hands. He eyed the cover and raised an eyebrow. "'Pregnancy Day By Day'?"

His blonde companion grinned at his repulsed expression. "Okay, it's more for Carol, but we thought you might-"

"Who the hell told you?"

"C'mon, it's not like we get a lot of gossip in this house. Rick told me, Hershel told Maggie, and Maggie told me, but I already knew... Point is, we know and we want to help."

Daryl laid the book on the bed. "So much for privacy an' shit."

"I think HIPPA went out the window a long time ago," Andrea observed as she picked up the book. "Hershel said you didn't know how far along she is?"

His expression darkened. "I didn' know shit 'til this happened!"

"Alright, jeeze!" Andrea rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he's guessing she's about ten weeks or so just by how her stomach feels."

Daryl's confused expression was almost comical. "How it feels? The hell can he feel anything?"

"Well, surely you've noticed a change! I mean, she's nearly out of the first trimester, and you didn't notice?"

"I thought she was eatin' good!" Daryl's face had gone from confused to irritated.

Andrea patted his hand as she opened the book. "Here, look at this book... See? This is probably what the baby looks like now."

Daryl squinted at the picture. "Looks like a deformed peanut."

"Oh god, don't you ever say that to her!" Andrea laughed, rising to her feet. "I'm gonna check on dinner."

He watched her walk out the door before turning his eyes back to the picture in the book. The corner of Daryl's mouth twitched as his face softened. His fingers drifted to the gentle curve of Carol's stomach. "Lil' half-baked peanut," he murmured.

* * *

**Yay, flashback! Now we know what really happened to give Carol such awful nightmares. In the next chapter… Peanut!**


	6. Sweet Surrender

**Ready for some more fluff? Can you handle it? Better check your blood sugar first.**

**TWD belongs to Robert Kirkman… for the time being. ;-)**

**Recommended Song: "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith**

* * *

A rectangle of light appeared in the distance as the backdoor opened. A figure emerged, carrying small orb of light that wove through the darkness, making its way to where Daryl sat. He watched the orb approach, his face impassive as the figure began to take shape.

"Hey," Andrea called softly.

Daryl gave a nod of greeting as she came into the light of his own lantern. She turned off her flashlight as she sat on the ground across from him. "How is she?"

"She's good. It's over."

A second nod was accompanied by a noncommental grunt. "How's Maddy?"

Andrea frowned. "Who?"

"Madeline. How is she?"

For a moment, Andrea was too stunned to speak. "She's fine, too. How'd you know it was a girl? All this time-"

Daryl chuckled. "Jus' did."

Andrea shook her head. "All that shit you gave her about a boy... You should have seen the look on her face when Hershel said it was a girl."

"What'd she say?"

"'I'll kill 'im,'" Andrea quoted with a laugh.

Daryl smiled as he laid his head back against the woodpile. A little girl... God help them all, he had a little girl.

"Oh, hey! Brought you somethin'!" Andrea began rummaging through the canvas bag on her shoulder. "Glenn and Maggie found some stale cigars they're gonna hand out when you get back, but Rick found you something we thought you might like a little better."

Daryl lifted his head with interest. From the bag, Andrea produced a single Mason jar filled with clear liquid. She grinned as Daryl's eyes widened. "Holy shit... That what I think it is?"

Andrea's grin broadened. "Some of Tennessee's finest bootlegged moonshine," she said with a wink.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed, reaching for the jar. "Didn' think I'd ever see any'a this again."

Daryl gave the jar a good shake and watched as the large bubbles quickly formed and vanished. He twisted the lid off the jar and sniffed the contents, then lifted it to his lips to sample it. His eyebrows lifted in approval as he handed the jar back to Andrea, who was still smiling at him. "Here's to the newest Dixon," she said, raising the jar. "May God help us all."

Daryl scoffed as Andrea took a sip from the jar. "Gonna need a helluva lot more than this. The hell m'I gonna do with a kid?"

Andrea handed the jar back. "Diapers and bottles are the least of your worries," she said, causing his eyebrows to disappear behind his hair. "I'd be more worried about Sam."

"Glenn's Sam? Lil' bastard can't hardly walk."

"Yeah, but someday, that 'lil' bastard' is gonna be 16 when your daughter is 15-"

Daryl nearly dropped the jar. "Shit," he muttered, then paused in thought. "Y'reckon they'd mind if I went ahead an' castrated 'im?"

Andrea burst out laughing. "I'm pretty sure Maggie would have something to say about it."

Daryl frowned. "Shouldn' be no boys up in Montana."

"You're awful!" Andrea laughed as she got to her feet. "C'mon, you gonna go meet your daughter or what?"

"Nah... gotta put this wood in the shed. Place ought've cleared out time m'done."

Andrea nodded as she started back towards the house. Daryl watched her go, but made no move to start relocating the firewood. He'd give them half an hour to clear out before he'd head back.

xoxoxo

He expected to find Carol asleep when he returned, so he was surprised to see a lantern burning on the bedside table when he opened the bedroom door. She didn't stir as he quietly shut the door behind him and took a tentative step towards the bed. "There's daddy," she said softly.

Carol turned her head to smile at him as he approached the bedside. She was laying on her side wearing one of his flannel shirts that still had its sleeves intact. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were dancing. Daryl knelt beside her. "Hey..."

"Hey yourself," she said, her smile broadening. "Somebody wants to meet you."

She pulled back the quilt to reveal a tiny head with dark hair, nursing happily from between the front folds of the shirt. Maddy's skin was bright pink, almost red in places. Her little fingers against Carol's breast were so delicate, no more than matchsticks. It was a wonder such little things could move without breaking.

Carol's hand rested lightly on his arm. "It's okay... you won't hurt her."

Daryl looked at her uncertainly. "She's so lil'."

"Trust me, she's been through worse."

Daryl folded his arms on the bed beside the newborn, leaning close to study her. Once the shock of her size began to wear off, he could begin to see familiar little pieces of himself. She had his ears, smaller than butterfly wings beneath her fluff of hair. Her nose was undoubtedly his own, even pressed against her mother's breast.

Slowly, he extended a finger to touch her. He first traced the shape of her ear, impossibly soft and thin, then slowly let his finger trail down her neck to her shoulder. She was so delicate and soft, a single touch away from being broken like a china doll.

He glanced up to see Carol beaming at him before she turned to face Madeline. "Hey... your daddy wants to take a look at you," she said, reaching down to reposition the infant.

Maddy gave a little grunt as her dinner was taken away, kicking her legs in protest. Daryl watched her, fascinated as this little person-their daughter-seemed to come to life as she moved her arms and head, looking for her lost meal.

"You wanna hold her?"

Daryl's eyes snapped towards Carol. "Wha'?"

Carol propped herself up on one elbow. "You can hold her. It's okay, you won't hurt her."

Daryl leaned away from the bed. "Nah... M'filthy..."

"Darlin', you cleaned up before you even came in here. I can't remember the last time I saw your hands this clean."

A long silence filled the room as Daryl watched Maddy stretch beside Carol, her little fingers finding their way to her mouth as she began to make more grunting sounds. Carol giggled. "She even grunts like you!"

One side of Daryl's mouth twitched. "I'd be mad too... takin' my food away like that," he said as he leaned forward again. "So... uh… how d'I...?"

Carol sat up on the bed beside their daughter. "One hand under her head, the other under her bottom."

Tentatively, he reached forward to scoop her up. He became aware of every callous and every rough edge on his hand as he slowly lifted her from the bed. Daryl glanced between Madeline and Carol, looking for reassurance.

"Mmmmm nnnnnn nnnnnn..."

Daryl's eyes snapped back to Maddy, who's face began to scrunch. He looked back to Carol, trying not to let his panic show. "S'wrong with her?"

"It's okay. She's just fussing. She's not used to being so exposed and independent yet. Just hold her close."

_Hold her close..._ He was afraid to move her from the safety net of the bed, let alone the thousand mile journey to his chest. Sensing his discomfort, Carol leaned forward and helped him shift the baby in his arms so he could cradle her against his old flannel shirt. Maddy immediately quietened, drawing her legs close to her body as she snuggled against the warm material.

Once again, Daryl looked to his wife. "A'ight... now what?"

Carol smile softened. "Now you hold her. Let her get to know you."

His eyes drifted back to Maddy, still unnerved by just how he barely noticed her weight in the crook of his arm. He could see her entire face now, perfectly round and healthy. She smacked her lips at him, miniature versions of her mother's. Daryl smirked. At least she'd managed to luck out there. The poor kid looked too much like him as it was.

And then Madeline opened her eyes.

"Holy shit!" he breathed.

Carol looked alarmed. "What is it?"

Daryl's eyes were transfixed by the beautiful dark blue ones staring up at him. "She's got her eyes... Kid's got her sister's eyes."

* * *

**SQUEE! Sorry, this was written before S3E05 and Daryl turned out to be the freaking Baby Whisperer. Seriously, I didn't see that one coming at all. But that scene was fun to write. I also love writing scenes between him and Andrea. ^_^ They're like siblings or something.**

**Ready for more adorable fluff? Only one flufftastic chapter left!**


	7. A Father's Love

**One last bit of fluff!**

**If you haven't figured out by now I don't own TWD, I'll just play along and pretend I do.**

**Recommended Song: "Love Without End, Amen" by George Strait**

* * *

The sun crept through the curtains, casting warm rays across the bed. Carol smiled as she stretched across the pillows. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so soundly. Not since Madeline-

Carol sat up. Madeline hadn't made a sound all morning. She reached for the bassinet, hoping to find her sleeping peacefully. Instead, she found nothing but her pink blanket. "Maddy?!" she gasped, then turned back to the bed. "Daryl! Maddy's gone!"

There was no response from the mound of blankets. Carol reached to shake her husband, only to find his place empty. She began to panic. Had something happened? Why wouldn't they have woken her if something was wrong? Where was Maddy?

Carol jumped to her feet and hurried to the door, ignoring that she was dressed only in one of Daryl's shirts. She threw open the door and rushed into the living room, only to find exactly what she was looking for.

Daryl was stretched across the couch with his feet propped up on one end. One arm rested beneath his head while the other rested on a mysterious lump under his shirt that rose and fell with each breath. Carol took a few quiet steps closer just as a familiar grunt squeaked from inside his shirt. A little head peeked out just below his chin, its mouth rooting against the skin for something that wasn't there.

"Shhhhhhh," Daryl whispered without opening his eyes. His fingers began drumming against her back in a gentle wave, quietening the infant. "You'll get your breakfast in a bit. Y'Mama's sleepin'."

Carol wrapped her arms around herself as a smile began to spread across her face. "Mama's awake," she said quietly, causing Daryl's eyes to open. "Everything okay?"

He smirked. "She was fussin'... didn' wanna wake you. Brought her out here."

Sitting on the floor beside him, Carol rested her head against his shoulder. "So you put her in your shirt?"

An amused grunt bounced the baby on his chest. "Didn' want her t'fall if I fell asleep."

She rested her disfigured hand on top of his. "Whatever works," she said with a smile. "She looks comfortable."

Daryl took her hand into his before bringing it to his lips, kissing the gold band on her middle finger. "Ring fits again," he observed.

"Yeah, didn't think the swelling would ever go away."

He chuckled. "Gutted seventeen a'those bastards t'find it... S'gonna fit if I had to resize it myself."

Carol laughed as she squeezed his hand with her two fingers. "Is my girl ready for breakfast?"

Daryl put one hand on Maddy's back as he sat up. "Thought I might take Peanut out on her first hunt this mornin'," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Girl's got a grip on her... figure I'll start her off with a knife, teach her t'skin the kills."

His wife rolled her eyes. "Sure, and we'll just turn Samuel loose with your crossbow while we're at it," she said, reaching for her daughter. "Now c'mon, it's breakfast time for fussy girls."

"You're no fun," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "Mama's no fun, is she, Peanut?"

As if on cue, Madeline began fussing, this time louder and more insistent. Carol reached for her and scooped her into her arms. "I'm sure I'll win her over again," she said, kissing Daryl's cheek as she stood up. "If Maggie comes down before we're through, tell her I'll come help her in a bit."

Daryl stood and followed her into the bedroom. She paid him no mind as she sat on the edge of the bed and prepared to feed their baby. They had been parents only a few short weeks, and he sometimes watched her breastfeed with the fascination of a child. Everything about Maddy captivated him, from the way she was fed to the way she curled her toes.

He sat beside her on the bed, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder as he watched Maddy. Carol tilted her head against his as they watched their daughter in silence.

Daryl tilted his head to kiss his wife on the cheek. "Makes three of us," he said softly.

Carol smiled. "Three of us," she echoed. "Three of us Dixons."

xoxoxo

The End

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***dies* I walked around forever with this scene in my head. I thought it made for a good ending. I'm thinking of writing a series of short stories compiled into one about the life of the Dixon trio. "The Dixons: The Maddy Years" or something, lol. We shall see. In the meantime, I should probably get back to trying to shake the kinks out of "Between Two Brothers" and get back on track with it.**

**I hope you enjoyed this fic! 3**


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